


The Sound of Magic

by Myxini, SkyWrite



Category: Original Work
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Developing Friendships, Friendship/Love, Magic School, Multi, Nausea, Stomach Ache, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22194001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myxini/pseuds/Myxini, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyWrite/pseuds/SkyWrite
Summary: An AU crossover in which SkyWrite's characters Elijah and Micah live in the world of Myxini's Ginger & Mint.Ryder and his apprentice Elijah have their hands full running the Soothing Room at the Oppendorff School of Magic. An eventful summer and an exciting fall bring new friends, unlikely connections, and plenty of reasons for bellies to be filled up with good food and rubbed back to relaxation.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	The Sound of Magic

Elijah had scarcely sat down in front a pile of paperwork that needed sorting when a light rapping of knuckles came at the main entrance to the Soothing Room. The door was open, so he leaned back in his chair enough to peer around the tall bookcase towards the visitor. “Can I help you?”

“Hey there young fella’ -- is Ryder here?” It was Bert, the friendliest of the kitchen’s cooks and one of Ryder’s close friends among the facilities staff. He was holding a stack of envelopes in one hand; he must have brought the Soothing Room mail up so he could stop by for a chat.

“I’m sorry Bert, I’m afraid he has stepped out.” Elijah said genuinely, rising to his feet. His lips tightened as he both tried to stifle a breathless groan and resisted the urge to press a hand to the bulge of his belly beneath his ribs. He’d just finished brewing a batch of tonic and the filling -- dense, hearty oatmeal flecked with nuts and berries -- always left him feeling swollen and sluggish until he’d digested a little. He’d even poured a cup of black tea for himself so he could hopefully stay awake while he sorted paperwork.

“Ryder has gone into town to run some errands this afternoon.” Elijah explained, stepping down from the alcove where the office desks sat and crossing the wide stretch of the Soothing Room’s floor so that he could take the mail and shake Bert’s hand. “Thank you though, for bringing this up. I can let him know you stopped by?”

Bert was already waving a genial hand. “Not to worry ‘bout it. I’ll catch the scoundrel sometime tomorrow evening. You don’t let him work you too hard now, ya hear?”

Elijah chuckled and nodded. “Yes sir.” He returned the wave that Bert gave him and went ahead and eased the heavy door shut. There weren’t likely to be any students coming by and Ryder preferred to keep the door closed if they weren’t expecting visitors to prevent the school’s cats from wandering in.

Having that thought, Elijah immediately glanced down to check the area around his feet -- no Daisy. Which was technically a good thing because Ryder would be annoyed if she  _ had _ slipped in, but Elijah rather liked that little cat. He wouldn’t have minded a purring lap resident while he finished up his work. 

He returned to his desk, set the pile of mail in the only empty space, and picked up his tea, taking a long sip now that it had cooled a fair bit. Then he sat down, reached for a letter opener, and began sorting the new notices into their proper piles. There were a couple of delivery confirmations -- the tonic ingredients that he and Ryder had spent last week sorting and drying had arrived on time and in good shape. Elijah stapled those papers together and added them to a file folder on Ryder’s desk. There was also an envelope with a very official-looking seal and bold print; the names and particulars of the students that would be coming to OSM next fall semester. 

Elijah gave the list a brief glance-over. The names were organized alphabetically by surname --  _ Kara Baker, Micah Greene, Grayson Ives, Bramley Nubbins, Malia Pikolt _ \-- but of course, none were names he recognized. Still, he thought it important to learn new students’ names as soon as possible. He’d heard from several others that leaving home felt less nerve-wracking if you felt noticed and seen in the place you ended up.

Elijah cleared a small section of Ryder’s desk so he could place the letter in an easy-to-see spot; it would be important to his mentor to learn the new names too. Then he turned back to his own desk and reached for the last letter of the stack. He felt a little jolt of alarm as he turned it over.

From RAMA. Marked “urgent.” That was rarely a good thing. Elijah bit his lip and wondered if it fell into the “do not read without Ryder present” category. He searched for the “confidential” stamp and found none, so with a faint sigh, he slit open the envelope and unfolded the paper inside.

His first thought was mild relief. It was just another tonic order, so that meant the “urgent” only applied to a sensitive schedule, not a sensitive  _ topic _ . But the nervousness crept back in as he kept reading. They intended to send someone to the school by the  _ following _ afternoon to pick it up. That meant that either it would have to be brewed within the next few hours or in the early part of the morning before the Soothing Room grew busy.

Elijah grunted softly and felt over the heavy swell of his stomach with one hand. He was still so full -- there was no way he’d be able to do it himself before morning. He’d have to wait for Ryder to return from his errands and make sure he saw the notice. A little pang of guilt needled at him, leaving that hard bit of work for his mentor to get back to after a long afternoon, but there wasn’t much else he could do. 

Well, there was  _ something _ . Elijah lowered the letter to the surface of the desk and turned to look out over the Soothing Room. He’d been planning to take things a little easy for the rest of the afternoon, until his stomach started feeling a bit lighter at least, but there were a good number of chores that would need to be finished before midday tomorrow. The third year students were conducting their proving examination in two days, and while he and Ryder had already finished most of the preparations, the last day before the big test was always fairly busy with chore work if nothing else. If Ryder brewed a batch of tonic late into the evening, it would be good for him to be able to sleep in. But he couldn’t do that if there were too many chores that needed attention.

His mind set, Elijah rose from his chair again, downed the last of his tea, and braced a hand under the curve of his belly for a moment as he reached for his apron on a nearby peg. He could take as much stress out of the extra order as he possibly could, at least. 

He started with the tonic ingredients that would go into the batch. That would give him a little more time to digest while he did some work that didn’t require much moving around. He chopped and measured the exact quantities of dried mint, diced the ginger, and prepared the mineral powder that was the binding agent. Once that was done, he picked up a clipboard and pen and guided one of the luminous orbs into the large storage closet so that he could check inventory. 

When he emerged from storage again, Elijah checked up front, and then, finding no sign of his mentor, looked at the time. Ryder’s errands usually didn’t take longer than a couple of hours… but then again, with the semester coming to a close and the busyness in town this time of year, Elijah supposed it wasn’t that unusual for Ryder to still be tied up. He sternly smothered down his worried thoughts and went for his list of jobs again.

There wasn’t much more he could do before morning other than sweep the main floor. That was precisely the chore he’d been trying to avoid after brewing the first batch of tonic earlier, but it  _ did _ need doing and Elijah supposed he was feeling a  _ little _ better. So he hung up his apron again, grabbed a broom and dustpan, and began working his way across the room, moving crates and beanbag chairs aside, bending gingerly at the waist to avoid squeezing his stomach as much as he could. 

His belly was grumbling in mild irritation by the time he’d moved the last crate back into place and he sighed, reclining on a cushion and resting a hand below his ribs before beginning to rub slow, soothing circles. Everything settled down in there within a few minutes and Elijah leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He was beginning to get tired, maybe Ryder wouldn’t mind if he slipped off back to his apartment. He always tried to shoo Elijah off by five anyways, insisting he should socialize with his classmates.

It wasn’t that Elijah didn’t  _ want _ to be close with the others in his year, it was just that he still wasn’t quite sure  _ how _ to go about it. He’d been on his own for so long by the time he arrived at OSM that he’d forgotten how to be conversational and engage with groups of people without it feeling performative. Ina and Tim were so friendly and easy-going that he felt awkward and out of place by comparison. Allison and Sara were lively and spirited and he worried his more reserved tendencies would tend to annoy them. And Elliott… well, Elliott hated him. Elijah couldn’t even remember what it was that he’d said or done to so offend his classmate, but he supposed his complete lack of social skills must have gotten the better of him early on when they’d first been introduced. And Elliott had clearly despised him ever since. It didn’t really seem like a bridge that could be mended.

The thought of heading back to the apartment common room and spending an evening in with the others playing board games and drinking tea created a sort of warm longing in his chest, but Elijah felt it was best he just didn’t intrude on the others’ fun. They were pleasant to him -- with the glaring exception of Elliott -- and he was happy and thankful for that. He needn’t insert himself where he didn’t belong.

Elijah had very nearly dozed off where he sat when he jerked awake and looked frantically over at the clock on the wall. It was nearly  _ eight _ . And Ryder still wasn’t back? The seed of worry he’d buried earlier sprouted into something quite frantic. He had half a mind to walk up to the Dean’s office and request a use of the phone. He could call the public service department in town to see if Ryder had stopped there for any school relations business. But… it was just as likely that he hadn’t. And maybe he was getting worked up over nothing.

_ Ryder is fine. He’s just late. His errands have run late before _ . Elijah repeated the words firmly to himself a few times as he climbed to his feet. What could be keeping his mentor this time, he had no idea, but he thought abruptly of the tonic order and sighed, stepping over to the alcove again to pick the letter up and reread it.

Tomorrow. Midday. The letter was quite specific and rather…  _ adamant _ , at that. Elijah looked from the piece of paper in his hands to the clock on the wall again. If Ryder got back much later, it would be such a hassle for him to get everything prepped and then to perform the spell. And it would be such an unpleasant thing to have to come back to after thinking the day was done.

Elijah turned and placed the tonic order just next to where he’d left the list of new first-year names on Ryder’s desk, and headed for the brewing room to get to work. He boiled water, stirred together the ingredients and the binding agent, and left the mixtures to steep while he prepared the proper amount of filling. Once he’d filled a serving bowl, he set it down in easy reach of the old, comfortable armchair in the corner of the brew room, and turned to set up the three small cauldrons on the workbench; one for ginger tonic, one for mint, and one for the ginger-and-mint double potency brew. He filled them with the proper aliquots and checked the sigils. Everything was ready.

Elijah hesitated. Did he  _ really _ want to risk starting the batch and not being able to finish it? If he hit his limit halfway through, all he’d be doing would be making a mess that would need cleaning and wasting tonic ingredients. He felt a pang at the thought of disappointing Ryder.

Closing his eyes, Elijah took a deep breath and held it for a moment, trying to think through how his belly felt; if he could really manage another entire filling on top of the one he’d done earlier. When he brewed tonic batches in the middle of the afternoon, he often cheerfully went to bed without eating an additional dinner, but it  _ had _ been a few hours. He was far from hungry, but the tightness in his stomach had eased; the earlier weighty fullness felt more like a lingering satiation.

He let the breath out as a sigh and turned, grasping the armrest of the chair and settling down into the soft cushions. He shifted into as comfortable a position as he could get and reached for the hefty bowl of filling, resting it on his lap, and reminded himself to relax and eat calmly and steadily. If he let his nerves get the better of him, then he wouldn’t even be able to eat to his full capacity. This was not going to be a pleasant chore, but it had to be done, so Elijah lifted the first spoonful to his lips and chewed the mouthful, trying to think of other things.

Out of the couple dozen or so institutions across the four provinces that employed di-mages, OSM had one of the highest quotas of outgoing tonic orders. Which honestly seemed a little strange, and had frustrated Elijah when he’d first begun his apprenticeship -- not because of the work, of course, but because he found his curiosity absolutely afire one day when another student had confided in him that the tonics that he brewed “felt” different than the ones that they were used to from Ryder.

His first response had been concern, but he was quickly reassured that his tonics were no less  _ effective _ at easing aches and quelling nausea, just that the feeling they left behind was a warm sort of drowsiness, a sort of calming of spirit that made the drinker want very much to take a long nap. Whereas Ryder’s tonics felt “crisper” and left behind a sense of refreshment. Depending on how stuffed you were to begin with, of course. 

Elijah had gone back to Ryder with numerous questions, but his mentor had admitted that he’d not given the matter much thought and that because he’d been working alone in the Soothing Room for several years, he’d had no one else brewing tonics alongside him for the other students to compare to.

So then, Elijah had thought, maybe if he could test out several different tonics from several different sources, he could compare and contrast and find out if there  _ was _ some kind of impression left on a tonic from the mage who’d been responsible for the brewing. But again, Ryder’s answer had been disappointing -- OSM almost never took incoming batches of tonic. The Soothing Room was responsible for far more outgoing orders. There weren’t any differing batches available for Elijah to test his theory.

So, that had been a dead end. And with all the work to be done from day to day, Elijah had soon pushed the curiosity out of his mind and focused on the duties he needed to fulfill. He still wondered from time to time, but there was nothing to be done about it. 

The wandering of his thoughts made the eating easier, since he wasn’t focusing on how each spoonful of oatmeal felt, settling heavily in his belly. The filling was very good -- another factor that helped -- a rich porridge dotted with chopped bits of fruit and thickened with fresh cream. It wasn’t hard to eat mindlessly, methodically, and the grains weren’t particularly hard on the stomach. So when the first cramp twinged through his insides, it was purely a result of how  _ full _ he was getting.

“ _ Ugh _ …” Elijah took a bit of a sharp breath and laid a hand over the expanse of his belly beneath his ribs, feeling disconcerted when his fingers brushed the tight swell before he expected them to. He was barely halfway through the bowl, he was going to have to find some more room to be able to keep eating. So with a sigh, he nudged the bowl away just a bit, to give himself space to begin kneading over the grumbling places in his stomach and massage away as much as he could of the tightness he could feel.

With the bowl temporarily out of the way, Elijah brought his other hand to his middle as well and patted carefully along his sides where the firmness of his belly was uncomfortable with grumbling pressure. A few air bubbles coalesced and he pressed the heel of his hand in above his navel, squeezing up a deep belch that he couldn’t help but follow with a faint groan of relief. After a few minutes of carefully repeating the motions, the soreness and immediate pressure had eased but the heavy, bloated discomfort had not. Elijah held his stomach with one hand and very much wished he did not have to keep eating. He didn’t let himself wallow in that feeling for long, however. He pulled the bowl closer again and dug his spoon back in.

Again, he tried to set his mind on other things to stay distracted. He thought of the proving examination coming up in a couple of days, and immediately felt a bit cheered by the thought. The exam itself was somewhat of a big event in and of itself of course, a show that the rest of the school eagerly anticipated attending, but the third years had already been making studious use of the Soothing Room’s resources to practice their casting for the big day. Elijah had seen rejuvenation spells on a variety of plants, vast and impressive illusions that looked so real one might reach out a hand and touch them, and transformations of numerous ordinary household items to different objects.

He was looking forward to hearing back from the third years about what job positions they would be receiving when their exams were completed. And then there would be a celebration at the school to congratulate all the students on their hard work before OSM would settle down for the summer. Things would be quiet for a couple of months; some students might stay for research purposes but most would go home to family and friends until the fall semester started again. And of course, when it did, there would be a new first year class to welcome. Kara, Micah, Grayson, Bramley, and Malia. Elijah looked forward to meeting them.

A sharp pain gripped his belly, suddenly enough that Elijah gasped, moaning quietly a second later and pressing both hands to the swell of his stomach again. Everything he had eaten was beginning to churn and cramp more fiercely than the dull ache he’d paused to soothe before. His belly was bowed out against his palms and working up a few tense burps didn’t do much to relieve the throbbing pressure. He decided to let himself rest for a few minutes, glancing down into the bowl and feeling a curling sense of trepidation that there was still about a fifth of the filling left. How he was going to get it all down, he wasn’t sure. And then he’d have to  _ cast _ \-- he groaned miserably again. It was going to be so hard to focus by the time he got to that point.

The practiced methods that he’d learned in his training weren’t helping greatly at this point; there  _ wasn’t _ much air trapped in his stomach anymore. The tightness and pain were from the sheer volume he’d eaten, and the only way to keep going would be to relax as much as he could. So Elijah reclined the chair a bit, abandoned his Soother techniques, and just rubbed broad circles over his distended belly in a gentle clockwise rhythm. It was a motion that felt good on his stomach even when he wasn’t eating to his absolute limit, and the steady, warm strokes of his own palm gradually brought the smallest measure of comfort. His breathing was pinched under the weight of his belly pressing back against his lungs, but he tried to breathe evenly.

The last time he’d managed a particularly difficult spell in class, he’d been about at this point. It was a purification spell; a spell with tremendous applications for cleansing native springs and providing new sources of fresh drinking water to areas that were in need of them. The combined power of ten or so di-mages could purify a well abundant enough to provide for the needs of a small settlement. In class, and as one person, Elijah’s target was a large, filthy basin of water. He’d been the only one in the class other than Elliott (who seemed to perform nearly every spell perfectly regardless) who’d managed it in the 90 minute time allotted for the lesson. He’d been immensely -- albeit quietly -- proud of himself, but he’d felt quite unwell for the rest of the afternoon. Or at least, he had until Ryder had hunted him down, where he’d parked himself in an isolated window seat to try to nap off the bellyache, and made him take a tonic. 

And he hadn’t then intended to  _ keep eating _ .

Elijah grunted and pressed his hand to the painful pulse at the center of his swollen stomach and tried to think if he could really finish or not. He was  _ close _ , and getting this batch done was  _ important _ , but it already hurt so much and he was past the point he could distract himself from the ache. But if he stopped now, then he’d have done all this for nothing. And it was that thought that gave him the motivation he needed to reach for his spoon with the hand that wasn’t cradling his stomach and force the next bite past his lips. 

It was slower going than ever. Each bite  _ hurt _ going down and he couldn’t stifle the soft groans that rose to his lips every other breath. He held and rubbed at his stomach with his left hand and ate with his right, and even though he thought that surely after one more spoonful he’d have to stop, he somehow managed to lift another. The oatmeal had lost its flavor and felt like it stuck to his throat with every swallow. He’d almost be willing to sacrifice the smidgen of room a mouthful of water would take up to wash the sticky feeling down.

He’d just done it -- just swallowed down the final bite -- when a sudden, overwhelming nausea rippled through him from the tightness in his throat to the enormous swell of the center of his belly and Elijah choked on a breath, dropping the spoon and clamping a hand to his mouth, pressing two shaking fingers to his lips, his jaw clenched behind them. Absolutely  _ not _ . He was  _ not _ going to throw up. There was no better way to waste food, time, and effort all at once than throwing up just when he was ready to  _ cast _ .

But even searching for the kernel of magic deep inside proved to be a futile effort with how much of his concentration was focused on  _ refusing _ to let his belly squeeze and force up every ounce of half-digested porridge he’d crammed down. His belly was so swollen and stretched he imagined he could feel muscles he’d never really paid attention to before. The line of tension that ran from his sternum to his navel was tight and hot with the kind of ache he knew would last for a long, miserable while. The oatmeal felt like a sack of wet sand filling him up, pressing out in a way that convinced him his stomach might split open if he moved around too much. Pitifully, he wanted to groan aloud, but he was afraid to open his mouth.

For the next several minutes, Elijah waited for the waves of nausea to ebb and recede before he’d try to find his magic again, fumble for the spell, and then give up the struggle long enough to brace himself against the next wave of sickness that washed over him. Ever so painfully, and gradually, the nausea lessened just enough for his mind to clear. On his fourth try, something bloomed inside other than pain and pressure, and Elijah moaned with relief as the spell’s strength grew and flowed outwards. He kept one hand to his mouth, but let go of his stomach with the other, and reached out, pushing his hand towards the line of three cauldrons on the table. The tonics began to bubble and froth before glimmering with a faint light. The spell would take about an hour to run its course.

When he was certain he could keep the focus and direction of his magic, Elijah dropped his hand again and curled it back around the swell of his stomach, prepared to wait the next awful sixty minutes out before he could move again. He felt so sick and his stomach hurt terribly but at least the tonics would be done. When Ryder got back ( _ safe and sound of course no matter  _ **_how_ ** _ late it was _ ), he wouldn’t have to worry about RAMA’s obnoxious letter. All Elijah had to do was keep the spell down until the brew was finished.

And, either fortunately for the tonic or unfortunately for himself, Elijah was  _ very _ stubborn when he wanted to be.

\- - -

Ryder eased open the door to the Soothing Room, half-expecting to be greeted by his apprentice springing out of his chair with relief clear in his eyes. The day’s errands had taken Ryder a good deal longer than he’d anticipated, thanks to a cart full of cabbages that had overturned on one of the city’s main thoroughfares, and he’d had a sneaking suspicion that Elijah might have found tasks to busy himself with until he’d seen Ryder make it back safely.

But no -- the Soothing Room was quiet and empty.  _ Good,  _ thought Ryder.  _ He’s gone home for the night. _

He went over to the office alcove to hang up his hat and coat, noticing that Elijah had sorted through some paperwork for him. Two sheets of paper sat front and center on his desk, one of them bearing RAMA’s seal. 

Ryder felt a prickle of annoyance at the sight of that seal. RAMA had been so overbearing lately, making completely unreasonable demands on his resources with little to no notice. He was willing to bet anything it was a request for more tonic. Dear conscientious Elijah had placed the letter in such an obvious spot that Ryder had no doubt it was marked urgent -- but he decided very deliberately not to read it until the morning, feeling a stab of satisfaction at his small act of rebellion.

With his work finished for the evening, Ryder dimmed the lights to their gentle nighttime glow and headed down the hallway towards his apartment. Halfway to the stairs, he came to a stop, frowning. There was light shining out from under the door to the brewing room. That was strange. Maybe Elijah had gone in there earlier to do some chores, but it was unlike him to forget to take the lighting orbs back out with him.

Resolving to investigate, Ryder pushed open the door.

The reason for the light became clear immediately. Three cauldrons of tonic were bubbling away on the bench. And there was Elijah, sitting in the casting chair with his eyes closed. For an instant, Ryder thought he had a burlap sack sitting in his lap for some reason. Then the truth of the matter dawned on him -- that enormous shape was Elijah’s  _ stomach _ , bulging underneath his untied apron.

“Elijah?” Ryder couldn’t keep the note of alarm from creeping into his voice. He knew his apprentice had already brewed a batch of tonic earlier that day. Two of the heavy fillings in one day would be far too much for his belly to handle. From the sheen of sweat that covered the poor boy’s face and the way his arm was cradling the massive swell of his middle, Ryder had a horrible feeling that Elijah was already finding that out.

The sound of his name prompted Elijah to pry his eyes open and peer over to where Ryder was standing in the doorway. His dazed look of pain and nausea didn’t lessen, but a warm recognition and immense relief washed over his face underneath it. He didn’t open his mouth to speak, instead making a low, strained sound that sounded a lot like, “hello.”

Forcing himself to move at a calm pace, Ryder crossed the room to investigate the situation. He didn’t want to alarm poor Elijah, but his concern was mounting with every new detail he took in. Elijah’s breath was coming in strained sips of air, a little ragged from how much he was obviously hurting. The bloated expanse of his stomach suddenly jolted -- a tiny sound caught in Elijah’s throat, and Ryder saw his lips squeeze together as he swallowed thickly.

Ryder rested a hand on his apprentice’s trembling shoulder. “It’s alright,” he said gently. “You’ve got this. I know it doesn’t feel very good right now. I’m here to help.” 

Very carefully, he took the edge of Elijah’s apron and tugged it aside. It slipped off to reveal the way that the fabric of Elijah’s shirt had stretched so tight over his belly that a little strip of skin was visible underneath. Ryder tried not to wince -- he knew Elijah purposefully wore shirts that fit in such a way that they’d keep him covered even when his stomach was swollen from casting. But not even well-cut shirts could compete with  _ this  _ much swelling.

“Oh Elijah -- you’re in quite a state, aren’t you?” said Ryder with soft concern. “Let me see what I can do.” As gently as he could, he reached out a hand and placed it on the stretched side of Elijah’s upper belly, where Ryder knew his stomach had to be packed full and aching with the weight of the second filling.

The absolute lack of give underneath Ryder’s fingers immediately told him that Elijah’s stomach was far too stuffed to be touched directly. Even more telling was the way that Elijah winced at the touch, a shiver of distress rippling through him and a deeply pained groan slipping up through his teeth. A moment later, the mound of his belly gave a tight, ominous grumbling under Ryder’s hand, the sound trickling from top to bottom and tapering into a low burbling before pinching off into silence. Elijah whimpered softly and squeezed his eyes shut again.

“Oh dear. Okay.” Ryder pulled his hand back, patting Elijah’s knee comfortingly. “Let’s try something else.” 

With slow and steady movements, Ryder slipped a hand underneath the hem of Elijah’s shirt and tugged it up and out of the way. Then he pressed his palm gently against the curve of fullness just beneath Elijah’s navel, pausing a moment to make sure he seemed comfortable before beginning to rub back and forth.

The lower part of Elijah’s belly was almost as taut and swollen with food as the top. The filling from the brewing spell he had cast that afternoon seemed to have settled inside him like a heavy lump. If Ryder could help that lump digest a little, maybe some room would be freed up for the contents of Elijah’s stomach to move along. 

With that in mind, Ryder began working gentle circles into Elijah’s lower belly with his fingertips. He paid special attention to the tight places in Elijah’s sides, pressing into the cramped muscles with one hand while the other stayed resting just underneath the bulge of Elijah’s stomach, helping to support the heavy fullness.

Elijah’s first response was a quiet huff that melted into a low, steady groaning. He squirmed under the touch when Ryder massaged deeply into his lower belly but didn’t cringe away, understanding the motions would help even if they were slightly uncomfortable in the moment. But when Ryder paused to rub a more warm, gentle circle around his navel with a few fingers, the sigh of relief that left Elijah’s lips was encouragingly soft. He started to relax against the cushions of the chair, some of the tense shivers seeping out of his shoulders. 

Ryder had just started feeling the firmness under his fingers begin to soften when something grumbled deep in Elijah’s insides. Ryder paused the rubbing, feeling a shifting sensation beneath the palm he was still holding against Elijah’s stomach as the sound swelled into a sharp, productive gurgling. Then it squeezed downwards, growing softer and softer until it bubbled away into nothing somewhere below Elijah’s navel.

Elijah half-gasped, half-groaned, slumping back against the chair in an obvious wave of sudden relief. He swallowed once and then breathed out a rougher sigh, very slightly arching up into Ryder’s hand on his stomach.

Carefully, Ryder let his hand sweep up, rubbing the lightest of experimental circles onto the bulge under Elijah’s ribs. “Better?” he asked.

Elijah managed a weak nod and sighed again. “Hhh… better.” He squirmed as his stomach began grumbling softly with his next breath and squinted up at Ryder. “Still hurts…” He whispered pleadingly, as if afraid Ryder would pull away.

“I’m not surprised.” Ryder continued to rub soft circles, hoping to settle the rumbles under his hand. Usually, he would try to ease fullness like this by pressing gently under the ribs and down the sides, but Elijah’s belly was so swollen that Ryder couldn’t quite figure out where his ribs were. So instead, he began stroking his palm back and forth over the crest of Elijah’s stomach, watching for spots that prompted quiet shivers and sighs of relief. “Trying to brew twice in one day was maybe a little too ambitious, hmm?” he suggested gently as he rubbed.

Elijah blinked and his gaze flitted away, a blush of mild shame coloring his cheeks. “RAMA sent--” he was interrupted by a faint groan when Ryder’s fingers pressed over a tight place in his belly, “--an order for tonic… said they’re coming here  _ tomorrow _ to pick it up.” He glanced down at himself, as if starting to realize how he must look, and the hint of chagrin in his expression deepened.

“ _ Tomorrow? _ They can’t be serious. Of all the inconsiderate--!” Ryder broke off, stopping the rant before it could start. His frustration with RAMA wasn’t important right now. “I understand why you felt you needed to act,” he said, smoothing a hand comfortingly down Eliljah’s side. “But it would’ve been better if you’d waited for me to get back to handle it, rather than putting yourself through something that would cause you pain.”

“I -- I did wait, for a few hours, but--” Elijah’s answer halted abruptly with a sharp hiccup. He grunted with discomfort and continued, “But as the evening went on, I began thinking about how having to brew late at night might affect everything we have to do tomorrow to finish preparing for the proving examinations. And if there were genuine issues of any kind, you would be more equipped to handle them than I would be, but if you were tired from a long night, then--” Another tight groan slipped past Elijah’s lips when Ryder’s hand moved over the center of his bloated belly, a small gurgle following the motion. He blinked and added, very quietly, “It… it has been a while since… errands have taken that long…”

“That’s true. I apologize if I worried you. Things would’ve gone much more quickly, if it hadn’t been for the misfortune of a cabbage truck downtown. All things considered, I do see why you made the decision you did.” Ryder paused to work his hand over the curve of Elijah’s stomach as it grumbled softly again. “Still. I appreciate your sense of responsibility and determination, but your wellbeing is much more important than your duties to the school.”

Elijah’s eyes softened at the reassurance, and a little more tension seemed to ease out of him. But then he frowned slightly, as if something had occurred to him, and protested, “ _ You _ often put yourself through discomfort and tell me that it is merely the ordinary inconvenience of being a di-mage; that sometimes you have to push yourself.” The indignance with which Elijah delivered the objection didn’t hide the earnest concern in his gaze.

“I -- well…” Ryder paused for several moments, trying to think of a way to explain that just because  _ he  _ took that attitude sometimes didn’t mean that Elijah should do it too. In the end, though, all he could do was sigh. “I suppose you’re right about that. And your commitment to your work means you’ll be an exceptional Soother someday, which makes me proud. However -- as long as you’re an apprentice, you’ll leave the most uncomfortable tasks to me, okay?”

If Elijah might have normally disagreed with that, he didn’t seem to have the energy to do so at the moment. His breath caught in another low sigh and he relented with a nod.

“To be frank, I’m impressed you managed to push through and get this spell going.” Ryder glanced over to where the cauldrons were bubbling away. “You’re doing a very fine job and now that the worst of it is over, I have no doubt that in half an hour, we’ll have RAMA their tonic. Let’s focus on getting you comfortable.” He paused as Elijah’s stomach let out another mournful grumble. “It sounds like you could use a little tonic yourself. Do you think you could manage it?”

“ _ Nnghh _ …” Elijah squirmed and reached towards his stomach with one hand, clutching at the folds of his shirt where Ryder had pushed the fabric above the swell and resting the heel of his palm against a tense rumble. “I don’t know.” He said flatly, then groaned softly again. “Maybe…”

“I think it would be worth a try. You’ll feel so much better if we can just coax a little down. How are you doing? Do you still feel nauseous at all?”

Elijah grimaced. “Somewhat. Not as badly, but—“ he paused to swallow. “It comes in waves.”

“It sounds like ginger-and-mint tonic would be best, then. Shall I get some?” Ryder waited for Elijah to nod and to move his own hands to support his belly on either side before he straightened up.

The tonic that Elijah had prepared that afternoon was still in the room, racked and waiting on a cart to be brought out to the front. Ryder took one of the vials of citron liquid and grabbed a stool for himself to sit on before returning to Elijah’s side.

“Alright,” he said, handing the vial to Elijah. “See if you can drink it, but don’t push yourself if it feels like it won’t go down.” He rubbed a couple soothing strokes over the swell of Elijah’s lower belly before bringing his hand up to press encouraging circles into the tightness of his stomach.

The attentive rub seemed to help and Elijah relaxed a bit before lifting a hand to uncork the vial. He held it near his mouth for a moment, eyes closed, breathing steadily in and out, letting the crisp scent calm his stomach a little. Then after another comforting press from Ryder’s hand, he tilted the vial to his lips, and swallowed twice to empty it.

The relief that washed over Elijah’s face was almost immediate; he gasped softly as he lowered the vial, then rested a hand over the swell of his belly beneath his ribs with a ragged sigh. Suddenly looking exhausted, he hummed something thankful, trusting Ryder to understand his wordless gratitude.

“Well done.” Ryder took the empty vial and set it aside. “All we have to do now is wait out the spell, and from the looks of those cauldrons, you’re more than halfway there.”

Elijah made a soft sound of agreement and sank back in the chair, his eyes drifting closed. The color was slowly returning to his cheeks and the sounds coming from his stomach were fading from sharp, cramped gurgles to soft, productive rumbles. The tonic had helped settle his digestion, but Ryder knew it wouldn’t provide much relief for the feelings of bloated heaviness no doubt tugging at Elijah’s middle. He continued to rub broad, steady circles over his belly, occasionally letting his hand come to a supportive rest over the tightest part of the swell.

Before long, the characteristic spicy scent of completed tonic began to fill the room. Ryder gave Elijah’s belly a soft pat. “Elijah? You did it. You can let the spell go now.”

“Mmm…” Elijah stirred and opened his eyes, looking over at the cauldrons on the workbench. Something in him relaxed under Ryder’s hand and the steady bubbling of the tonics slowed and ceased. A faint smile touched the corner of his lips and there was a hint of warm pride in his blue eyes, then he lifted a hand to cover a yawn and sighed softly. “...Suppose I have to get up now,” he said, not budging an inch.

“Perhaps you’d like to stay in the sleeping quarters here for the night?” Ryder suggested. “I don’t imagine you want to walk all the way back to your dormitory at the moment.” 

Elijah groaned quietly at the notion. “I don’t.” He blinked drowsily. “If… it is alright if I stay here…?”

“Of course. Let me help you.” Ryder stood up and offered Elijah an arm. A beat passed as Elijah seemed to muster his willpower -- then he sat up, took hold of Ryder’s arm, braced his feet, and started to push himself up. A low, aggrieved rumbling in his stomach brought him to a halt and he sagged back to the edge of the seat with a weary groan, still holding onto Ryder but wrapping his other arm around his belly.

“Is everything okay?” Ryder asked. “We can rest a little longer here if you need to.”

“I’m alright.” Elijah murmured unconvincingly, the words punctuated by a soft hiccup. He took a couple of deep breaths, then gripped Ryder’s arm more tightly again and grunted with the effort to haul himself to his feet. He made it, and stood a trifle unsteadily, leaning into Ryder’s support and clutching at his middle, but gave a small nod to lead the way when Ryder quirked an eyebrow in a silent question.

They made their slow and careful way out of the brewing room and down the hall. Elijah groaned softly between steps and paused every so often to shift the hand he was using to support his stomach, but he didn’t falter. It wasn’t long before they made it to the small side room that housed little more than a lone bed, meant for occasions like this where someone had worked too hard on a spell to make it back to their personal quarters to nap it off.

Ryder tugged back the blankets and helped Elijah sit on the mattress’s edge. “Do you need anything?” he asked as Elijah began easing himself under the covers with slow, ginger movements. “Something to drink, or an extra blanket?”

Elijah shook his head, moving so that he could lower himself to the pillow, and reached up to pull the elastic tie from his hair. He sighed restfully and reached to pull the sheets up, tugging them over the mound of his stomach. When he was settled, he peered up at Ryder, already looking half-asleep. 

“Thank you.” He mumbled warmly, tucking his other hand up by his head on the pillow. “For helping me…”

“That’s what I’m here for,” said Ryder with a soft chuckle. “Thank you for finishing those tonics. You did a very good job with them.” He gave Elijah’s belly one last gentle pat before heading for the door. “Sleep well, Elijah.”

A soft hum answered Ryder before he closed the door behind himself.

The tonic would need bottling before Ryder went upstairs, but there was something he wanted to do first. He made his way over to his desk, took out a pen and a sheet of paper, and sat down to write a note, because even after a whole night of sleep, Ryder was sure that Elijah’s stomach would not be up to casting the next day.

_ Dear Professor Kenwick,  _ Ryder wrote.  _ Please excuse Elijah Brayler’s absence from your Tuesday morning class. I have advised him to rest after an occurence in the course of his training with me. Thank you for understanding. _   
  
He signed the note, folded it in half, and tucked it underneath his pencil cup, where he would remember to send it out in the internal mail the next morning.

As he was setting down his pen, he realized that the two sheets Elijah had left on his desk had become caught under his elbow. He picked them up and gave them a quick scan.

Here was the letter from RAMA -- requesting a full batch of tonic to be picked up the next day, just as Elijah had said. Ryder scoffed and crumpled the letter in disgust, tossing it neatly into the garbage can.

The other document, which Ryder had scarcely noticed earlier, was much more welcome. Every year, Ryder looked forward to reading the names of the students he would soon have the privilege of welcoming to the school.

He scanned the list, smiling softly.  _ Five  _ names. Not quite as many as Elijah’s class, but still a marked improvement over the tiny classes of two or three students that OSM had been admitting for the past few years.

In a couple weeks, classes would end and the proving exams would be over and done with. OSM’s third-year students would be off to the next stage of their lives, the other students would go home, and the school would fall into the relaxing lull of the off-season.

After that, it seemed like it was going to be a busy fall. Exciting, and Ryder was looking forward to it, but busy. He was glad that he and Elijah would have the summer to prepare. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come see us on tumblr at [Tinymyx!](https://tinymyx.tumblr.com/)


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